


The 72nd December 31st, 2018

by Gaia_bing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Co-workers, Eventual Romance, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, New Year's Eve, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sexy Times, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-20 15:39:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17025420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaia_bing/pseuds/Gaia_bing
Summary: Sure, there's been countless stories about people reliving the same minute, the same hour or the same day over and over and over again...But all of them have been told from the point of view of the person that is having that particular problem.This one...this one's a little bit different...





	1. 8:02AM

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, another story...
> 
> But this one I'm going to make sure is done before the end of the year. And after that, I promise, I'll concentrate my efforts on the one that I already started, since I don't want to abandon it and leave it like it is. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> ETA: Boosted up to be read during its appropriate day. ;)

**December 31st, 2018, 8:02 AM**

  
Steve Rogers adjusted the glasses on the tip of his nose, the ones that he sometimes used to cheat when it came to reading and gulped another welcomed sip of coffee.

  
Sure, he may be have quite the good physique thanks to regular gym and yoga sessions, but that didn't mean that _everything_ on his body worked at a hundred-percent capacity all the damn time.

  
Which explained the use of glasses to help with his slight myopia and caffeine, because...well, _who_ wouldn't need coffee at eight in the morning and _especially_ when you're the one that volunteered to organize the New Year's Eve party at your workplace and you want everything to be absolutely perfect?

  
Anyone? In the back maybe? Yeah, that's what Steve thought...

  
Anyway, back to the task at hand, or more precisely, the list on the top of his knees, as Steve put his favorite blue-steel (a gift from his roommate and coworker) mug back onto the kitchen table and...

  
**_*BANG*_ **

  
Ah, speak of the devil.

  
Steve raised his head to greet his long-haired best friend and show him where he'd settled the coffee pot if he needed any, when the smile that had decorated his face just a second ago suddenly disintegrated.

  
As he noticed James Buchanan Barnes standing in the hallway, leaning against the door that he'd opened in a fracas just now...

 

_Crying._

  
Big, fat, ugly tears were rolling down both his cheeks. His breathing was jerking with sobs as he frantically, like he was trying to figure out where he was, looked around the large kitchen.

  
"Bucky?" (that's what Steve and anyone that was close to the man liked to call him) finally tried the blond man in a gentle voice, slowly raising himself up from his kitchen chair and adding: "'You're o-"

  
That seemed to snap something inside his best friend, as he looked straight at the blond and replied with an sudden wave of anger inside his voice:

  
"NO! No, I'm not okay! _God_ , why do you always have to say that whenever I show that I'm upset by this situation? Can't you just get it through your damn thick skull?!?"'

  
What... _what_ situation? What in the world was Bucky talking about? He was about to ask that particular question, when...

  
"No, no I can't tell you what's going on because every time I do, you don't believe me. No, I didn't break up with anybody that anybody else didn't know about. Yes, I was absolutely sober last night and I'm not suffering from any drug _or_  booze hangover. No and I do _really_  mean it this time, I don't need to go to a hospital or get my head checked or call my freakin' mother for advice, you hear me?!"

  
...Bucky somehow answered the next six for him.

  
"H...How do you know I was thinking of asking you all of that?" quietly asked Steve, now a little less worried...

  
And a _whole_ lot more freaked out by what was going on.

  
The long-haired man stared at him for a moment or two, then after letting out a shaking chuckle, slowly slid down onto the tiled floor of the two-room apartment...

  
And Steve could only watch as Bucky gathered his knees together and responded in a now completely-tired voice...

  
"Because you would too... if this was the 72nd time that you woke up on December 31st, 2018 at 8:00 AM sharp."


	2. 8:09AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, "The streets".

**December 31st, 2018, 8:09 AM**

  
Steve very slowly, as if the other man would break into a million tiny pieces if he went too fast, approached the now balled-up form that had been his best friend just a minute ago.

 

  
Crouching over and putting a hopefully-reassuring hand on top of a mop of brown hair, he tried in a gentle voice to get into communication with the ball:

  
"Buck...Bucky..."

  
"Hmm." was the ball's response, trying to get itself out of Steve's attempt at comfort by making itself even smaller than before.

  
Biting the corner of his lips, Steve brought both of his hands on top of the muscle and bone enclosure of the ball that were his best friend's arms and, inching a little bit closer, he tried once again with an almost-whispering voice:

  
"Look, Buck, I don't know what's going on here or what on Earth you're talking about..."

  
"Bmm." said the ball in response.

  
"But all I know is that whatever happened made you quite upset and if there's one thing that can't stand, is seeing one of my best-est friend in the whole wide world be upset without trying to do something about it."

  
"Chmm." replied the ball to that, but seeing it loosen up a bit gave Steve a boost of confidence that maybe his method was working after all.

  
"And look," he continued. "I won't be able to do something about anything if I don't know what that *thing* exactly is. So, please, can you get out of your ball and explain what's happening to you? Please, for me?"

  
For a second there, the ball that had been Bucky Barnes for the past couple of minutes seemed to at least consider its options, slightly moving from left to right in apparent hesitation...

  
Until...

  
_"...wha pi is ip?"_

  
"What?" asked Steve, only half-understanding what the muffled voice was saying.

  
To his relief, the top-half of the Bucky-ball finally unfolded itself and with a definitive sniffle, the long-haired man wiped the liquid that had escaped from his eyes (and his nose, yuck) with one of his sleeves as he repeated with a more certain voice:

  
"What time is it?"

  
Rearing back a bit and blinking a couple of times in confusion, Steve turned around to look at the kitchen clock and replied when he saw the time:

  
"8:16...why?"

  
With a sigh (that, for the life of him, Steve didn't know if it was a resigned or a strength-gathering one), Bucky licked his lips before replying with a more sure voice this time around:

  
"How about, rather than tell you, I just _show_ you what's happening to me?"

  
*************

  
Forty-five minutes later, about two blocks away from their apartment, Steve Rogers was reeling.

  
"........................, .............., ..................., ................, ............ _huh_." was all he could say, really.

  
And Bucky, crossing his now gloved arms, wiggled his eyebrows and pursed his lips together as he responded: "Yep."

  
The blond man, despite himself, tried to maybe make an attempt at somehow deciphering what he'd just witnessed...

  
"So, if we summarize what has happened in the last half-hour or so..."

  
"Huh-huh..."

  
"You somehow knew that our brand new neighbor from across the street..."

  
"That's named Kate."

  
"Right, Kate. You somehow knew that she would be wearing a green skirt a thigh-high boots today..."

  
"Yeah..."

  
"...and that she'd come face-to-face with a telephone pole, seconds before her forehead went to said meeting..."

  
"Yes."

  
"And that the red truck that passed us by after that particular thing happened would get suddenly get passed by a black Pontiac...

  
"License plate GB3 EC5..."

  
Steve nodded, looking straight ahead, as he remembered seeing the exact series of letters and numbers on the screeching vehicle only seconds after Bucky had first shared with him _that_ particular information.

  
"Right. And that the owner of said Pontiac would shout _"Go to hell you ass!"_ right after the red truck beeped at him four times."

  
"Which he did, right?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

  
"Yeah, yeah he quite did in fact." Steve couldn't help but agree. He continued his summary: "And that the small dog ..."

"...That's named Fifi..."

  
"That's named Fifi, right, just like its owner so loudly screamed out.... would somehow escape its walking leash, jump on that bench, and spilled that stockbroker..."

  
"...named Daniel..."

  
"Named Daniel, right, right. And it would spill this Daniel-guy's coffee all over his....how much did you say that his brand new suit costed, again?"

  
"25 hundred."

  
"Oh yeah, that's right, because apparently. That's what it costed _you_ to buy _him_ a new, **new** one when the 24th and 63nd December, 31st, 2018 came along. Am I following this right or am I not?"

  
"You're on the right track here, pal."

  
Steve sighed, put his own gloves hands upon his hips and tapped his booted feet upon the pavement. Everything that he'd just witnessed was bumping and running inside his mind and he stood there, trying to make sense of it all.

  
He scratched the back of his neck and asked his best friend: "And you're telling me that you've seen this particular set of events how many times now?

  
Looking up at the sky, his face concentrated as if he was doing some mental gymnastics, Bucky looked back down and replied with a shrug of the shoulders:

  
"About 50, give or take. The rest of the times when they were happening I was either back at the apartment or somewhere else entirely."

  
Taking a breath, Steve's eyebrows went up as he asked: "So, if what you've told me earlier this morning and just now is in fact 100% correct, while for the entire world today will only feel like 24 hours, for you, it will have been..."

  
"...2 months and a half. Yeah." whispered a now completely tired-sounding Bucky.

  
Again...

  
"........................, .............., ..................., ................, ............ _huh_."

  
But when he saw the long-haired man look down at his winter boots, looking even smaller than when he'd been a Bucky-ball earlier that morning, Steve made up his mind and iron-clad resolve as he proclaimed, like the white knight he'd sometimes liked to be: "Well, it's a good thing that you've told me because I, Steven Gant Rogers, am going to help you, James Buchanan Barnes resolve this nasty-looking pickle and I swear that you _will_ indeed see January 1st, 2019 when this specific December 31st, 2018 is over."

  
Now, Steve had anticipated a few responses from his best friend at this particular declaration:

  
some teary eyes...

  
a warm, engulfing hug,

  
maybe even some hopeless shouting.

  
But, what he hadn't expected however...

  
...was Bucky looking upwards and straight up _cackling_ at him.

  
Steve looked at the other man, completely perplexed by his reaction.

  
"What? You don't think I can help you?!" he asked, now a little bit pissed that his roommate and long-time best friend didn't seem to have faith in his capabilities.

  
Bucky, after snorting out one last laugh and drying his eyes from humorous tears this time around, replied::

  
"Oh, believe me, I absolutely would _love_ to think that you can help me see January 1st..."

  
And added with a now dejected smile:

  
"But when you take a look at what has resisted these past 2 months and a half besides me, when it comes to tackling this particular pickle, you probably won't know where to even _begin_..."

  
With that, Steve received straight from the backpack that his best friend had brought along with him, the supposedly other survivor of 72 December 31st, 2018 in a row:

  
A worn and scribbled-out journal.


	3. 09:13AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, "The journal"

Steve stared at the leather-covered cover of the journal Bucky had handed him earlier. The both of them were now back in their apartment, the blond haired man back in his original morning kitchen chair sitting pose, his best friend leaving him for an overdue shower and some tranquility for his brand new morning-time lecture.

  
Steve was still desperately trying to make any kind of sense of what had happened over the past 90 minutes...

  
What state he'd seen his best friend in,

  
What the long-haired man had so brokenly told him,

 

What he'd witnessed on that block just down the street...

  
And now here he was, apparently holding the one thing that had followed Bucky along 72 December 31st, 2018 now.

  
Well, no use beating the bush anymore than it already was...

  
And so, Steve took a deep breath, steeled himself against what was to probably come...

  
And dove right inside Bucky's notes.

  
***************

  
Test...testing...les duchesses de l'archi-duchesse sont-elles sèches ou archi-sèches?

 

* * *

  
Well, would you look at that? This thing and what I wrote inside are all still here...

  
_Finally_ , something that doesn't reset itself whenever midnight strikes.

  
Maybe now I'll be able to tell someone or something what's happening to me...

  
It's December 31st, 2018, at 8:00AM sharp and I wake up.

  
I get out of my room and Steve is there by the kitchen table, the list for the _Insight_  New Year's Eve Party in his hands, glasses over his face and he grins as he points where the coffee pot is.

  
I eat breakfast, put on my winter clothes and I leave the apartment.

  
As I walk down the street, I see a woman in a green skirt bang her head against a telephone pole and hold on to her bleeding nose, I see a two vehicles get into an altercation at the corner, I see a dog escape its owner and make a man spill his coffee all over his suit...

  
It's been happening in the same order, in all of the exact same way, for 4 times now.

  
But that's not the freakiest part...

 

The freakiest part is that when I get to bed at night and fall asleep, I wake up and it's December 31st, 2018 at 8:00 sharp all over again...

  
I get out of my room and Steve is there by the kitchen table, the list for the _Insight_ New Year's Eve Party in his hands, glasses over his face and he grins as he points where the coffee pot is all over again...

  
As if the past 24 hours never happened...

  
As if I'm the only one that is noticing something strange going on here.

  
What in the world is going on?

  
What in the world is happening to me?

 

* * *

  
The first 4 times this happened, I didn't say a single word about any of my problems to anyone. I went about my day, ate my 3 meals and did what I was supposed to do.

  
But yesterday (or is it today? I don't even know anymore), I had enough and when I got out of bed, I finally told a still sitting-and-coffee-pot-pointing Steve what's been happening to me. He just stared at me like I had suddenly grown three heads, pushed a thermometer inside my mouth, forced me to forget work and spend the rest of the day in bed.

  
I thought maybe that this was it, this whole thing was a goddamn fever dream cause by some sort of flu or sickness that I didn't notice...

  
But, I just woke up...

  
And it's still December 31st, 2018 at 8:00AM sharp.

  
So, yeah, some weird illness this ain't.

 

* * *

  
Am I supposed to do something here?

  
Is this loop supposed to teach me something about myself, like in one of those books or movies?

  
Maybe this is the reason why I remember things other people don't.

  
Maybe I'm supposed to make a difference, save someone, do something extraordinary...

  
Yeah...

  
Maybe this is how I'm supposed to get out of this mess, which is now in its 12th run now.

 

* * *

  
Welp, I'm on my 25th reset now and so far, absolutely nothing that I've tried has worked.

  
I have:

  
\- Saved that green skirt lady (who I learned is named Kate) from breaking her nose,

  
\- I stood in the middle of the street to block the red truck from coming contact with the black Pontiac (whose license plate I can recite by heart now),

  
\- I grabbed the running dog before it even had the time to break away from its owner,

  
And hell even last time, I spent at least five months worth of rent buying a brand new suit for the guy that got coffee all over his old one!

  
But yeah, nothing has come from any of it.

  
And on top of everything, no one I tell my woes to actually believe me...

  
Not Steve,

  
Not Sam,

  
Not Natasha,

  
Not even my mom and my sister.

  
So yeah, a bit stuck here...

  
_Literally._

* * *

  
Maybe I'm supposed to not be here...

  
As in, not in New York.

  
Maybe this is how I get out of this loop.

  
By being away from this place.

  
Because after all, if I'm not in my bed when I go to sleep, I won't wake up back in it, right?

  
Right?

  
Right.

 

* * *

  
Reset no. 33 and that hypothesis is out the window.

  
I've tried to go anywhere that I could think of before 12:00AM: came along:

  
\- Sam's place,

  
\- Natasha's place,

 

\- The bar itself,

  
\- My mother's,

  
\- Albuquerque,

  
\- Sleeping in my car,

  
Hell, last time I woke up I just got out of the apartment, drove to the airport and took the first plane out to anywhere...

  
Anywhere but where I was...

  
Anywhere but inside this time loop that has been destroying me from the inside and out.

  
But, as I can clearly see, even being 40,000 feet on a direct flight to Australia when New Year's Eve strikes doesn't work as I somehow still back here, on _goddamn_ December 31st _goddamn_ 2018, at _goddamn_ 8:00AM sharp...

  
Back in my own _goddamn_ bed.

 

* * *

  
Maybe I'm on my 35th December 31st, 2018, because...

  
Just _because_.

  
Hell, if one thing from books and movies didn't work,

  
Maybe another thing coming from them will...

 

* * *

 

Oh boy, never doing any of _those_ things again...

 

Especially not streaking during the Times Square Ball Drop...

  
And spending New Year's Eve 2018 no.46 in a goddamn jail cell, _that's_ for sure. 

* * *

  
I'm on my 60th reset now and I'm _done_.

  
You see that, whoever or whatever is doing this bullshit to me?

  
_**DDDD, OOO,  NNN. EEE!!!** _

 

* * *

  
How many hours has it been for everybody since this whole thing started...

 

...24 hours, maybe?

  
And how many has it been for me...?

  
1560... Thanks calculator.

  
Wow, that is a _lot_...

  
Well, at least the suit-wearing guy (that told me his name was Daniel) that I re-bought clothing for was nice to me this time around instead of being angry at his situation.

  
At least I've done one last good thing before I go...

  
Where I probably should have gone in the first place.

 

* * *

  
Reset 66, number of the devil...

  
or is it 666?

  
Either way, all of it is quite representative of the complete hell that I've been stuck in.

  
Last time, I finally caved...

  
And turned myself to the nut house.

  
And would you look at that, even embracing what I probably am didn't work!

  
So yeah, dear thing that's been with me from the very beginning, tell me:

  
What in the world am I supposed to do _now_?

  
******************

  
Steve stared at the final writings and yeah...

  
Bucky had been 100% right.

  
When it came to tackle this particular pickle...

  
He had no idea where to even _begin_.


	4. 12:33PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, "Lunching and buying"

  
Bucky was slowly munching on a pork sandwich, all the while staring at the take-out table,

  
And Steve was munching on his, all the while staring straight at him.

  
Neither said a word, when they finally met up for lunch on the beginning of that afternoon. Steve was still trying to make heads or tails of what he'd heard, seen and read over the past 4 hours, while Bucky...

  
Bucky seemed to be even more miserable than this morning, when he'd come out of his room openly weeping...

  
And at that moment Steve had never seen his best friend in such a low state, so what he looking at right now was quite the poor sight, if he could say so himself.

  
It was the long-haired man that finally broke the silence, as he put the rest of his uneaten sandwich back inside it allotted paper plate and, scratching behind his neck, looked up and asked:

  
"Now then, do you believe what I wrote is real this time around?"

  
Steve reared his head back a bit, blinking in confusion.

  
"What do you mean, _this_ time?"

  
Bucky's eyebrows shot up and for the second time that day, Steve saw him scoff out a laugh as he replied: "What? You thought this is the first time that I've shown you my journal? This isn't even the first time I showed it to anyone! Heck, even Rebecca down in Montauque took a peek at it when I came to visit her on Reset 22."

  
The blond man's own eyebrows shot up as he asked: "And what did she say after she read it?"

  
Bucky simply shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as he responded: "The same goddamn thing than everyone else who read it, even you on Reset 8: _"Nice story! You could become a sci-fi novelist you have so much imagination!"_ "

  
And for once, it was Steve's turn to scoff as he said: "Hey, look! That was then and this is now and believe me, after what I've seen right after you've told me, I'm right behind you on this one. And, just like I said before, I am going to help you out and you're going to finally-"

  
"-I'm going to finally do _nothing_! Alright?" cut off the long-haired man, now growing visibly agitated.

  
Taking a deep breath, he visibly calmed down as he added in a lower voice: "Look, even though you may believe me this time around, which is kind of nice by the way, whatever solution you come up with to try and fix this, it isn't going to work. Trust me, I've tried *everything* that I could think of to get out of this mess and absolutely *nothing* has worked. And even if you try to help me, what exactly is the point? December 31st, 2018 is just going to start up all over again for me and as for you...

  
You're gonna end up not believing me anyway, because you're just going to forget everything that's happened for the past 24 hours when New Years' Eve ends tonight."

  
A strike of lightning suddenly struck Steve's mind...

  
And right underneath Steve's ass also, as he suddenly stood up and with an also agitated voice, suddenly yelled out as he threw a 20 on the take-out table and dragged a seemingly confused Bucky out of there:

  
"Ah, fuck! The _Insight_ New Year's Eve Party!"

  
****************************

  
Steve was once again readjusting his once again brought-out cheating glasses, as he once again went through his list.

"Let's see now... so far I've got..."

He took a look at the rather large cart he'd taken at the decorations and crafting store's entrance.

"Hmm: 

\- A pinata,

\- Some champagne toppers,

\- A disco ball,

Ooh! Some confetti shooters to let out after the Countdown is over... that'd be quite festive!" 

ù

He made his way towards the "Portative" section of the store.

  
And Bucky, now the one that seemed absolutely confused by what was going on, followed along with a couple of nervous-looking eyes and a scowl showing all over his mouth.

  
Steve turned around and with a scowl of his own, and despite himself and what his best friend was going through at the moment, he elbowed Bucky right in the ribs.

  
"Hey! 'The hell did I do?!" was all Bucky responded, soothing what was probably now quite a few aching bones.

  
Pointing right into his best friend's face, Steve replied in a warning tone: "Listen here, buddy. This right here is _Steve Rogers' shopping time_ and if there is one thing that I, the one that's called Steve Rogers, will absolutely _not_ tolerate, is a frowny face during his shopping time. So you better leave your worries at the store's door and follow me into the bright world of your imagination, you got me?"

  
Bucky tried to get the index finger out of his face as he asked: "Where in the world did _that_ non-sense come from?"

  
Only for Steve to point once again, but upwards this time around, right at the store's motto that was hanging on a huge white and red banner:

  
_"Leave your worries at the store's door and follow us into the bright world of your imagination."_

  
And, for the first time since this _very_ strange day began and much to Steve's delight, Bucky didn't openly mock him or laugh in hopelessness...

  
He simply laughed. 


	5. 3:09PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, "The secret".

The _Insight_ bar was what you might call a pretty "happening" place. Lots of people, from all kind of walks of life, (but all of legal drinking age, of course) loved to assemble there whenever they could and let their hair and stress of the day down. This little endeavor had been Steve and Bucky's concrete baby for over three years now, but had been a shared dreams of theirs ever since their first meeting back in the 12th grade, when they were about to enter adulthood and would soon be reaching their own legal drinking age.

  
But today, exceptionally, there wasn't anyone in the bar...

  
Well no, that was a lie. There *were* people in the bar, just not any costumers, as the place was closed for the day, in preparation for what was meant to be quite the busy and fruitful night.

  
These people, two of them to be exact, were the one that greeted their bosses, Steve and Bucky, as a red-haired woman named Natasha and a gaping-tooted man named Sam grinned when the duo came into the establishment, multiple shopping bags in hands and colorful gizmos pretty much dripping out of them.

  
"Hey boys! Had a good time touring what New York had to offer in mall districts?" asked the waitress with a teasing smile, to which the blond man could roll his eyes at as he tiredly dropped the heavy contents of his hands near the bar and pretty much slumped down on a stool with a sigh.

  
"You would not believe just how much different crap you can buy for a New Year's Party. It's almost as big as Christmas in some of these stores, let me tell ya.." Steve said as he took off his winter coat and dropped it as his booted feet.

  
He couldn't help but gratefully smile when he saw Bucky do the same routine that he'd just did and take a seat right next to him. "And yeah, if I had been alone to do this, I probably would have been overwhelmed and would have probably not gotten here in time to set up everything. But thanks to my fellow owner right over here, I think we're going to be good to go!" he said as he pointed to a wooden floor-looking and deeply frowning Bucky, his slightly raised spirits that had somehow survived in the three hours that they'd both been arms deep into decoration shopping now seemingly extinguished.

  
Sam, the observant bartender that he was, tilted his head in visible concern as he asked: "What's up with stubbly-boy? Did he trip on some ice and fell right on his coccyxs to look so moody like that?"

  
Bucky quickly raised his head at the interrogation and was bout to respond... _something_...

  
When Steve quickly interjected with a raised hand and eyebrow as he responded in a slight warning tone: "He's just a bit under the weather and it isn't feeling all the New Year's Evey, that's all. So please guys, just leave him be for now and if he wants to tell you what's wrong, he will, alright?"

  
Both of his employees quickly nodded and his fellow owner,

  
Was now the one looking grateful as he leaned in close and whispered: "Thanks, I...I spent so many times putting all of my burdens on them already, I don't think I have the energy to do it again."

  
Smiling slightly and patting his best friend on the knee, Steve whispered back: "Well, thanks for trusting me into bearing this one of a kind burden with you this time around."

  
Separating from the long-haired man, Steve added in a louder voice: "Now, I don't know about you guys, but if we want to actually host a New Year's Eve Party, then we better set this place up to actually *look* like a New Years' Eve Party. So, what do say? Decorating time?"

  
The other three people in the building slightly grinned as they all proudly proclaimed:

  
_"Decorating time!"_

  
****************

  
Something weird was going on with Bucky.

  
Okay, so while this seems like the understatement of the century, _especially_ today, what Steve meant to say that something weird was going on with Bucky for the past two hours...

  
Maybe even weirder than all of the shenanigans that had happened beforehand.

His good spirits from earlier that day had seemed to return, as he busied himself along with the other three patrons of the bar as they all set up banners, streamers and even party hats on their own head to get into the spirit....

  
No, it wasn't the long-haired man's mood that was strange this time around...

  
It was his actions.

  
Every time Steve had business to take care of in their backroom, where all of the alcohol and utilities that served the place were located, Bucky would almost immediately volunteered to do it in his stead. And everytime he would get in said backroom, Steve would hear a cacophony of noises, as if Bucky was throwing a party on his own in there, as if he was hurriedly moving things left and right without a care,

  
As if he was searching for...

  
For _something_.

  
And, every time he'd get back out, he'd end up handing Steve whatever the other had wanted to get in the first place, with a forced smile and not a single word before going back to the main floor of the bar to set up something else for the evening.

  
And sure, Steve had asked both Natasha and Sam to leave Bucky alone about any potential worries he could have had and the blond man *did* in fact want to distract his best friend from what had been happening to him, at least for a couple of hours....  
But by the fifth time this happened, Steve had just a little bit enough.

  
He was going to get to the bottom of whatever was going on...

  
And he just knew how to.

  
Armed with his chosen weapon for the afternoon, a red broom along with its accompanying duster, Steve took advantage of his best friend's turned back, as the long-haired man seemed to be deep in conversation about how to efficiently divide the different sections of the bar and nonchalantly, like he'd been doing for the past two hours...

  
Began to sweep,

  
Sweep,

  
And sweep,

  
As he slowly and methodically make his way towards the room that Bucky had pretty much prohibited him to go....

  
And he'd been about to reach past its door-frame,

  
When Bucky, as if lightning had struck under _his_ ass this time around...

  
Suddenly stood between him and said door-frame.

 

"Where, uh, where do you think you're going sweeping away like that?" asked Bucky in a nervous tone.

  
Steve, leaning on his trusty cleaning tool like a simple walking baton, raised an eyebrow as he asserted: "Well, from all of the clinking and clanking that I've been hearing every time you go in there, you probably made quite the mess. And so, as one of two fellow leasers of this place, it is one of my responsibility to make sure that every tiles and bricks that I see are absolutely spotless, even in places that only the four of us have access to." Sweeping, but the air and with his broom-less arm this time around,

Steve indicated for his best friend to step aside with a "Now, if you don't mind..."

  
His eyes seemingly growing alarmed, Bucky's forced smile only widened and he muttered through his teeth: "Oh, please, if you need a bit of cleaning back there, I'm a big boy. I can take responsibilities on my own and repair my mess."

  
Now he was the one with a slight push at Steve's chest and a: "Now, if you don't mind..."

  
Steve responded with a slight push of his own and a: "Oh no, _I_ insist..."

  
Now it was Bucky's turn, as the push turned into a shove: "Oh, no, the pleasure is all _mine_ , **please**..."

  
"No, I'll go." said Steve, shoving back a bit harder,

  
"No, _I_ 'll go." responded Bucky, shoving Steve so hard he almost made Sam's presumption come true, but on his own form as he awkwardly tripped two steps behind.

  
Okay, alright, before this was going to turn into something both Steve and Bucky would probably regret later on, the blond man did the only thing left to do, much to Bucky's apparent dismay...

  
As he grabbed the long-haired man forcefully by the right shoulder, pulled him away from the door-frame and stepped inside the backroom to see what in the world the other man was searching...

  
Or hiding back there, as a previously-looking and torn up piece of paper seemingly floated down from the middle of the air and delicately deposited itself onto the floor.

  
"'The hell is that?" couldn't help but ask Steve out loud, grabbing the scribbled on piece of paper that Bucky, having sprinted his way inside the small room when he saw what the blond man had noticed, desperately tried to seize first.

  
And once again, the long-haired man's mood changed, as the energy seemed to evacuate his body and for the umpteenth time that day, defeatedly looked downwards as he said in quite the pained voice:

  
_"It's...it's what survived Reset no. 71."_


	6. 7:33PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, "The party"

It was four hours later and the bar was finally opened to the general public.

  
There was lots of New Year's Eve partiers bustling about, chatting, laughing and ordering drinks.

  
But, ever as hard as he tried, Steve Rogers just couldn't bring himself to get into the partying mood...

  
As he was sitting there, now the one sadly looking down at the wooden floor, taking a sip here and there of his now-warm glass of beer.

  
And rethought over and over again about what he'd read on that torn-up piece of journal (how had he not seen that the book had been missing pages when he'd first read it?),

  
The series of words that had appeared before his very eyes and translated themselves inside his brain,

  
The note that Bucky had left behind and thought someone,

  
Anyone...

  
Other than him would find if and when January 1st, 2019 finally came.

  
_"To everyone,_

  
_I'm so sorry. I thought I was strong, I thought I could handle this, but I can't._

  
_Not anymore at least, it's just too much._

  
_Everything is just too much._

  
_Don't try to understand why I did this, only I really know and remember the reason why. I just hope that in time, some of you will find it in your heart to maybe forgive me someday._

  
_I love you all, never doubt that. It was never about that. I'm just a coward taking the easy way out and I am completely and entirely taking the blame for my actions._

  
_Please, please, know that where I'm going now, I'll finally be at peace, as even hell is now looking more heavenly than the pure agony that I've been going through._

  
_I'm sorry,_

  
_I love you,_

  
_And Happy New Year, hopefully,_

  
_James Buchanan Barnes."_

 

After Steve had read those last few words, he'd raised his head to look at his best friend, completely taken back, the long-haired not even daring to look back at him,

  
As he wiped at his now watery eyes,

  
Whispered in an even more broken voice than Steve had ever heard him use: _"I'm sorry."_

  
And got out of the backroom of the bar almost as fast as he'd gotten in without another word, leaving the poor blond man to his thoughts...

  
His worries...

  
And most of all:

  
His sadness for his best friend.

  
The same sadness that had haunted him for the past three hours or so.

How could Bucky do something like this?

  
Think something like this?

  
_Feel_ something like this?

Didn't he...

  
Didn't he know?

  
Hadn't he seen...

  
Seen...

  
_It_?

 

A bolt of lightning suddenly seemed to strike Steve's mind once again and this time, he raised his head and looked at the distant form of the once-again Bucky-ball that had taken refuge on the bar's outside terrasse ever since Steve had read those fateful words.

  
And, now the one wiping at his own eyes, Steve knew just what to do...

  
What to say...

  
How to make James Buchanan Barnes see what he needed to see.

  
****************

  
The air was unusually warm for a December 31st, Steve thought to himself, as he opened the glass and wooden door and, just like that morning, very slowly made his way towards the half-folded and weeping form of his best friend.

  
But, instead of crouching, this time, he sat right next to it...

  
And simply asked:

  
"How?"

  
A beat...

  
A sniffle...

  
Then a slight movement...

  
Then a quiet, almost inaudible:

  
"Brooklyn Bridge. Threw myself off of it. Never thought landing in water could hurt so much."

  
The Bucky-ball uncurled by itself this time around, as the long-haired man slightly raised his head, but still didn't dare to look at Steve as he added:

  
"I thought I finally found it, the lesson I had to learn. The reason I was going through all of this. 'Thought that maybe whoever or whatever was doing this to me wanted me gone, plain and simple."

  
Steve couldn't help but ask: "So, this is why you looked so frightened and defeated this morning, because it didn't work?"

  
Bucky nodded as he replied: "I thought I did it, you know? That I finally found a way out of this mess, however cowardly it was. But, if even the death of somebody as insignificant as me doesn't do the trick, then I don't..."

  
And at that Steve couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Bucky by the right shoulder once again, but this time...

  
Engulfed him into a tight hug.

  
Tears once again fell down his cheeks in silence as he whispered against his best friend's soft hair: "You listen to me, James Buchanan Barnes, there is absolutely *nothing* insignificant about you. You are a shining light inside every single life that you've inserted yourself into. You're the personification of warmth, of comfort, of everything that is good in this world...

  
You're special, you're so goddamn special, don't you see that?"

The blond man reared his head back and gently, oh so delicately, wiped the tears that had now appeared on his best friend's cheeks.

  
"Don't you know just in how much pain everyone would have been if January 1st would have come and we'd have find you gone? Don't you know that the agony that you have suffered for 2 months and a half now wouldn't even come to the goddamn heel of everyone's...

  
Of...

  
Of...

  
Of _mine's_ , if things had indeed gone the way you wanted them to?

  
Don't you know how big of a hole your absence would have left inside my life...

  
Inside my soul...

  
Inside my heart?

  
Don't you know how much I appreciate you?

  
How much I esteem you?"

He closed his eyes and leaned against Bucky's touch, as the long-haired man reciprocated his tears drying gesture.

  
Opening his eyes once more and staring into the most beautiful pair of steel-gray ones that he ever had seen, right then and there, underneath the starry sky...

 

Steve Rogers couldn't help himself.

 

He warmly whispered, with every once of emotion that he could pour inside his voice, right before leaning in...

  
"Don't you know how much I _love_ you?"


	7. 09:48PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, "The backroom".

Again...

  
Again and again they kissed.

  
They separated, then went back in,

  
Then separated, then went back in.

  
Like dying men finally getting some much-needed food and water,

  
Like astronauts that hadn't breathed some proper oxygen in so long finally getting some Earthly air.

  
And, just when Steve thought he had taken everything Bucky had to give for the moment...

  
A warm and shy tongue poked at his teeth and opening up his arms,

  
He gathered a now kneeling-Bucky against his own now-leaning-back form and the petting over...

  
And to the satisfaction of Steve's now completely interested crotch,

  
Under clothes,

 

Started.

  
Who knew James Buchanan Barnes had such delightfully defined muscles?

  
(Sure, he'd seen the other man half-nude before, with him being his roommate and everything, but his brand new aroused eyes were noticing things quite differently than before.)

  
A six-pack that was almost as big as his own?

  
A...

  
_Wow_...

  
A lengthy and inflated package that made Steve just salivate at the thought of doing some many things to him and by him.:

  
With the help of his hands,

  
With the help of his lips,

  
With the help of his...

  
**_Okay!_   **Time to reel things in, before he became an awkward teenager that didn't know what the hell he was doing and finished things before they had the time to even start.

  
Because he knew _exactly_ what he was doing...

  
He hadn't spent the better part of an hour setting things up...

  
Setting them up for...

  
_Well._..

  
**************************

  
It was now Bucky's turn to be left reeling.

  
"Oh.... _oh_.... ** _WOW_**." he heaved out, his chest rapidly raising up and down against Steve's sweaty and sticky one.

  
They were back in the backroom, but for a more joyous (and quite demanding on the physical side) occasion this time around.

  
They were lying on a raggedy mattress, the same one that they sometimes used whenever an overnight at the bar was needed (for inventory and such), but that this time had been used for something other than sleeping.

  
That other thing being done from one person to the other,

  
Then from the other person to one,

 

With the help of already-there lube and a full pack of condoms,

  
With the help of both man's pair of hands,

  
With the help of both man's pair of lips,

  
With the help of both man's...

  
Rock hard asses,

  
Along with the help of both man's now deflated crotches.

  
Breaking the small moment of silence, Steve looked upwards at backroom ceiling, grinning as he ran his fingers through his now-lover's matted hair and said: "Bet that never happened in any of your precious 71 December 31st, 2018s for you to react like that. Huh?"

  
Turning his head over to listen to the blond's man slowing heartbeat, Bucky tiredly wiggled his eyebrows and responded with a completely drained voice: "Nope, no it didn't. And now I'm wondering why in the world I never tried."

  
Steve grew a little bit self-conscious as he asked in a nervous voice: "And uhm...and what does the judge has to say about the repeated performances that I provided him on this night?"

  
And, to his relief, Bucky turned his head and could light up the whole city New York wit his smirk as he gently whispered: "Well, the judge says: "Keep doing what you've done four times in a row now and you're going to be in his good graces for a loonnnggg time, that's for sure."

  
Steve smiled back and was about to initiate another round of making-out, maybe even something further, when something the other man had just suddenly made him feel like a bucket of cold water had just been dropped all over his body.

  
His smile disappeared as he asked: "Huh, Buck?"

  
"Yeah?" Bucky looked at him, his previous grin also dissipating.

  
_"...what time is it?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...he he he he...
> 
> hehehe...>;D


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, "..."

Looking at his discarded watch, Steve felt Bucky's heartbeat rise up once more as the other man quickly moved his eyes back towards his and replied in a slightly panicked voice:

  
"There's...there's three minutes left 'till midnight."

  
Blinking, Steve let the information set inside his brain, before helplessly whispering: "So that means, that if things go the way they've been going, when the countdown comes to 0, it's going to be...December 31st, 2018 at 8:00 sharp all over again."  
Bucky silently nodded.

  
"And you're going to wake up in your bed, on Reset 73..." Steve continued, raising himself into a sitting position.

  
Bucky nodded again, following him along.

  
"And I'm going to be at the kitchen table, with my New Year's Eve Party list in hand...and...

  
And....

  
_And_..."

  
"...and you're not going to remember a single that has happened today." the long-haired man finished for him.

  
Now Steve was the one to be completely frightened and defeated as he said in a completely broken voice: "But...but...I don't want to."

  
Bucky flashed him his second dejected smile of the day as he whispered back: "I know."

  
"But I...and you...what are you...? What am I...? What's gonna...? What if you...?"

  
A warm finger against his lips silenced and with a gentle kiss on the forehead, Bucky tried to reassure him by saying: "It's going to be alright, Steve. _I'm_ going to be alright."

  
But the blond man shook his head in response and once again brought his lover into a hug, but a desperate one this time as he cried out:

  
"No, no it's not going to be alright! You hear me James Buchanan Barnes? It's not! This isn't fair! I don't want to forget a single second of today, I don't want to make you bear another layer of burden and not being able to do anything about it! ...I don't want to forget how you made me feel, how I made _you_ feel, I don't..."

  
He felt the warm embrace of the other man tighten itself around his own form and tears began to once again roll down his face when, from outside the backroom, he could hear a drunken crowd starting to shout:

  
_"8!"_

  
_"7!"_

  
_"6!"_

  
And he heard right by his ear:

  
"It's gonna be alright, Steven Grant Rogers, because..."

  
_"5!"_

  
_"4!"_

  
"...because for one day in my pure Hell, you made me feel like I was in Heaven."

  
********************

  
....

  
....

  
....

  
**_"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!"_ **shouted the rowdy crowd inside the bar, kissing and exchanging wishes of a good upcoming year.

  
While inside a rather large backroom, on a raggedy mattress...

  
_"Steve?"_

  
"Hmm?"

  
_"What were we talking about?"_

  
"I....I don't...I don't remember."

  
_"You know what? Neither do I."_

  
A gentle smile.

  
"Huh... well whatever it was, it must have been not that really important."

  
A hand through blond hair.

  
_"Anyway, I don't know about you, but I think there is something rather important that I should be saying..."_

  
Two bodies laid back down.

  
"Oh yeah and what is that?"

  
A tender peck on the lips.

  
"That I love you too, Steve. And that..."

  
A more passionate kiss back.

  
"That what?"

  
A turn of bodies over, as a long-haired man hovered a blond haired one and whispered against a set if warm lips:

  
"...that the rather important something, or should I say, the rather important _someone_ that you should be doing, if you want to at least equal the record of five in a row that the judge is so proudly holding at the moment, right now....

  
_**...is me."** _

  
And Steve, on his and Bucky's very 1st January, 2019, couldn't help but respond before getting to the task at hand...

  
Or should we say, the task at _dick_...

 

"Well, what else can I say but...

  
...I hope I get a perfect score on this one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, out and delivered just in time! Happy New Year in advance and thanks everyone! :D
> 
> ETA: Don't anyone worry, *both* Bucky and Steve are officially out of the loop...
> 
> And into each other's arms. :)


End file.
